


It’s Sooner Than I Want, but You’ve Caught My Heart

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-04
Updated: 2012-12-04
Packaged: 2017-11-20 08:08:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/583143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is not a love story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It’s Sooner Than I Want, but You’ve Caught My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by 500 Days of Summer.
> 
> Disclaimer: this is entirely fictional, isn't meant to infer anything about these actual people. don't share this with anyone that it's written about, please.

Harry’s always believed in love. It takes a few tries to get it right – he thinks this when he watches how his mom looks at his stepdad, eyes bright and a smile so sweet it made his teeth hurt. Gemma has a boyfriend, and Harry knows they’re in love; he knows this because Gemma isn’t herself when Tom isn’t around. There have been too many novels, too many films made about love for it to not exist.  
  
  
Everyone loves someone, Harry thinks. It takes a few tries to get it right.  
  
  
Louis’ parents divorced when he was old enough to know exactly what it meant, and the repercussions that would come from it. He held his youngest sister when his dad moved out; he was the one that packed away wedding pictures, any trace that his father had left behind. It was late one night when he could hear his mum crying in her room when Louis decided love wasn’t real. It was all a glamorous lie, really – a fallacy, a fairytale, a myth.  
  
  
Love didn’t exist, he thought, because if it did, people wouldn’t leave each other.  
  
  
\- -  
  
  
It is October.  
  
  
“Happy anniversary to me!” Harry trills, tying his apron around his thin hips. Snow blankets the ground outside and falls in thick flakes, and Harry’s got his warmest Henley on to keep his bones from chilling.  
  
  
“Anniversary, eh?” Niall whistles through his teeth as he pulls a batch of cookies out of the oven.  
  
  
“Six months,” Harry grins proudly. “On this day, six months ago, our dear friend Liam decided to hire me.”  
  
  
  
“Shitty decision, that was,” Liam chides, wipes his hands on his apron. “All you’re good for is cupcakes and drawing in women. No work ethic.”  
  
  
Harry strides over and presses a sloppy kiss to Liam’s cheek, which he wipes away hastily. “I’ll remember that next time you forget to make a hundred muffins for a breakfast conference and call _me_ , the best muffin-maker in town, because you live too far away.”  
  
  
“Zayn was sleeping and Niall eats half of what he makes,” Liam sniffs.  
  
  
“It’s alright, really. I wasn’t expecting gifts.”  
  
  
“That’s good, mate, because we weren’t planning on getting you any,” Zayn snorts.  
  
  
The four of them work like this for the rest of the day; baking and poking fun at one another, smiles on their faces. The customers come in cranky from the cold and soften up at the laughter and warm aura that fills the space behind the counter.  
  
  
It’s just about closing time when the door opens with the tinkling of the silver bell that sits on top. Liam wipes his hands with a rag and unties his apron, grinning at the boy who walks through the door. Harry eyes him; he’s tanned skin and blue eyes and wispy hair that he’s tried to tame into a quiff.  
  
  
“Louis!” Liam says, walks around the counter to wrap the boy in a hug. “Boys, this is Louis – he starts on Monday.”  
  
  
The boys all stare at Louis, a quiet weariness that fills the small quarters of the bakery. Louis shoves his hands in his pockets and nods, eyes flicking from the other boys to Liam.  
  
  
“Nice to meet you, mate,” Niall finally says, sticks his hand out to shake Louis’. “My name’s Niall.”  
  
  
“Welcome,” Zayn says unenthusiastically, smiles at the tone of his voice. “Sorry – I’m, uh, just a bit tired. You’ve been hired by a monster.” He shakes Louis’ hand as well. “I’m Zayn.”  
  
  
“He _is_ quite terrible, isn’t he?” Louis smiles, reaches out to pinch at Liam’s waist. “First time I met him he was terribly unwelcoming to me.”  
  
  
“I was _not_ ,” Liam sighs, grabs a sponge to wash down the counters. “You were just a bit – well, you were being quite _Louis-y_ and it was all a bit overwhelming, yeah?”  
  
  
“Overwhelming,” Louis laughs, slouches into one of the overstuffed armchairs that line the back wall. “One of the nicer ways to describe me, I suppose. Always so _polite_ , aren’t you, Li?”  
  
  
“My mum raised me well,” Liam shrugs, pink in the cheeks.  
  
  
There’s a halt in the conversation and everyone looks at Harry. He shakes his head wildly and wipes his hands down on his apron, extending one. “I’m Harry Styles,” He says weakly, mouth suddenly dry. “It’s my six-month anniversary.”  
  
  
And his stomach starts to twist because it’s all terribly embarrassing, telling a total stranger who is your sort-of co-worker that it’s your six-month anniversary, when he has no idea what that means. So Harry clears his throat and offers his widest smile, the one that he used at age 16 to charm the senior girls into a couple of handjobs and a lay in the loo at a house party.  
  
  
“Well,” Louis says brightly, gets up to walk behind the counter and pluck a cupcake from a tray. His eyebrows furrow in concentration and his tongue sticks out a bit as he draws a smiley face on top with pink icing. “Happy six-month anniversary, Harry Styles.”  
  
  
And just like that, Harry is smitten.  
  
  
\- -  
  
  
Harry’s shifts with Louis go amazingly well the next few weeks. Liam yells at them both for engaging in a flour fight in the back room, and when Harry has the shift after Louis’, he’ll find a cupcake that sits on the shelf marked with his name in the back room, a different drawing on it every time.  
  
  
They argue as much as they laugh. Louis has different taste than Harry in almost e _verything_ – films, novels, clothing, music. The banter turns into frantic dissertations on their favorites, and ends up with one of them taking a handful of chocolate chips and showering it upon the other, with Liam’s shouts in the background and Niall’s laughter echoing throughout the bakery.  
  
  
“Notting Hill is good, I agree,” Harry muses one day, arm aching from mixing batter. “But nothing beats the Titanic.”  
  
  
“Absolutely _not_ ,” Louis rolls his eyes, slides a tray of cookies into the glass counter. “Leo dies – depressing, really.”  
  
  
“It’s not _depressing_ ,” Harry argues. “It’s the greatest love story _of all time_.”  
  
  
“The boat sinks,” Louis shrugs. “Predictable.”  
  
  
“You’ve obviously never been in _love_ ,” Harry huffs. “You wouldn’t understand.”  
  
  
“I wouldn’t,” Louis trails off, walks to the front counter to help a customer.  
  
  
Harry stares at him, stares at this Louis Tomlinson with his brown hair and his blue eyes and his strange penchant for unfinished business.   
  
  
\- -  
  
  
Two months later is December.  
  
  
Harry, Niall and Zayn work a double shift to keep up with the demands of the holiday season – plenty of cookies, cupcakes, and pies to churn out every minute of every hour, packaged up in a neat white box and tied with a string. Liam walks around frantically helping customers, trying to keep a cheery smile on his face, but comes off looking rather uncomfortable, Harry thinks.  
  
  
The crowd dies down and Louis walks in, Liam locking the door after him and sinking into an armchair. He holds his head in his hands and Harry sneaks out from behind the counter, goes to plant himself on Liam’s lap and hug him around the head.  
  
  
“Stressed out, darling?” Harry asks, and Liam nods. “Let’s all go out for drinks after we clean up, shall we?”  
  
  
“Reckon that might be good for you, Li,” Zayn says from behind the counter. Liam peeks through his fingers to look at Zayn, his brown eyes bloodshot from exhaustion. “Your kidneys are working properly, mate. One or two drinks at most.”  
  
  
“Yeah,” Liam sighs, resigned. “Suppose it wouldn’t hurt.”  
  
  
“Yes!” Niall shouts from behind the counter, wipes it down at a rapid pace. “Get cleanin’, boys – this might not happen ever again.”  
  
  
“You make me sound like I’m a wet blanket,” Liam huffs. Niall shrugs, doesn’t dispute his claim, and Liam rolls his eyes. “I’m not that dreadful, am I?”  
  
  
“It’s not that you’re _dreadful,_ Liam,” Louis explains, moves his fringe out of his eyes. Harry watches him as Louis studies Liam curiously, his eyes squinty and crinkling up at the corners. “It’s just you haven’t had a proper lay for a while, you never come out, and you’d prefer to sit inside and watch superhero movies instead of drink with the lads.”  
  
  
“Jeez,” Liam mutters.  
  
  
“Nothing wrong with superheroes,” Zayn says as he sweeps up the floor, eyebrows raised.  
  
  
“No, you’re right,” Louis says. “But it becomes quite an issue if you have a different superhero assigned to each night – don’t deny it, Li, I’ve seen the list.”  
  
  
“Organization,” Liam shrugs, face growing hot. “And to avoid boredom.”  
  
  
“So not a wet blanket,” Harry adds. “More of a… _damp_ one.”  
  
  
The bakery falls silent and Harry can hear Niall choking back laughter, until he lets himself go, cheeks reaching upwards in a grin and a skinny pale hand ruffling Harry’s curls.  
  
  
Zayn shakes his head and puts the broom away. “Great joke, Harry. Add that one to the books, yeah?”  
  
  
The bakery’s lights are turned off and the cash earned from the day is stored in the back room, doors locked. They all walk to the bar a few blocks over, nosing deeper into their scarves and pulling their hats down to cover their ears. The December chill seeps its way into their coats, and by the time they reach the bar, their noses and cheeks are pink from the cold, teeth chattering.  
  
  
Louis leads them to a corner booth and orders them a round, winking as he claims it’s on the house, he has a friend that works there. They sip on beer and watch as plenty of drunken people stagger their way to the stage, singing Grease’s _Summer Nights_ and Journey’s _Don’t Stop Believing_.  
  
  
“More than three beers, Liam,” Niall raises an eyebrow, tilting his chin down in mock anger. “More than three beers or I’m sendin’ you up there to sing _My Humps_ or summat. Got that?”  
  
  
Liam says nothing, takes a tentative sip of his beer and eyes the rest of the bar.  
  
  
The next round is shots of tequila, and the boys erupt into laughter when Liam’s face scrunches up tight, eyes watering when he finally opens them. Each round seems to come quicker than Harry expects, and his head is swimming by the time Liam curls up to Zayn in the booth, his head on Zayn’s shoulder.  
  
  
“Zayn has the prettiest eyelashes,” Liam slurs, reaches up to touch, but Zayn intertwines their fingers, guides Liam’s hand away from his eyes. “The _prettiest eyelashes ever_ , probably in the history of the world, don’t you think?”  
  
  
“Ah,” Louis says, lifting his bottle. “The truth comes out.”  
  
  
“The truth comes out,” Liam repeats.  
  
  
“C’mon, Li,” Zayn says, stands up and leads Liam by the hand out of the booth. “Time for you to go home, I think.”  
  
  
“I was just starting to have fun,” Liam pouts, but squeezes Zayn’s hand nonetheless and follows him through the small bar.  
  
  
Harry giggles conspiratorially, leans close to Louis. “Li’s always had a soft spot for Zayn,” He says, and Zayn shakes his comment off, laughing. “Since grade school, practically.”  
  
“I reckon they should just fuck off and date,” Niall nods. “Zayn’s too stubborn to ask him, though.”  
  
  
“Date?” Louis laughs. “Right.”  
  
  
Harry and Niall fall silent, looking at each other in confusion.  
  
  
“Wait, you’re serious?” Louis leans forward on his elbows. “You guys actually want them to date?”  
  
  
“Yeah,” Harry says slowly, takes a sip of his beer.  
  
  
“Why?” Niall asks, loudly. “You don’t have a boyfriend?”  
  
  
“No,”  
  
  
“Right,” Niall laughs, runs his hands through his hair. “Good looking bloke like you with no strings attached.”  
  
  
“I don’t,” Louis shrugs. “I just – I like not having to depend on someone other than myself. It’s easier when I’m alone. I mean, most relationships end with people getting hurt and it’s just, I’m too _young_ to deal with that. Leave it for later.”  
  
  
“What if you fall in love?” Harry asks softly, tilting his head. His hands play nervously around his bottle and Louis watches his green eyes flash in a way they never have before.  
  
  
“Love,” Louis laughs, absent-mindedly pushes his hands through his quiff. “Right – like that’s real.”  
  
  
“What do you mean?” Harry says. “Of course it’s real.”  
  
  
Louis shrugs. “Don’t believe in it.”  
  
  
Harry goes quiet, doesn’t argue it any further. They keep ordering beers until they’re all properly pissed, and Niall dares Harry to do karaoke. With a smug smile and a cock of his eyebrow, Harry saunters up on stage still clutching a beer.  
  
  
“Dedicating this to my friends,” He slurs, points his bottle at Niall and Louis, who cheer. “And to love, and to dumbass Lou who doesn’t believe in love.”  
  
  
He serenades them all with a rendition of Someone Like You, and the place erupts into cheers, his two friends storming the stage and lifting him into the air like he’s just won a Superbowl. He raises his beer and chugs, wipes his mouth lazily.  
  
  
“You have a phenomenal voice, mate,” Louis says in awe.  
  
  
“Where have you been hidin’ it?” Niall says, laughing. “I play the guitar, you twat – we could be a team!”  
  
  
They exit the bar, grabbing on to each other’s elbows as they stumble out of the club, waiting for a cab to pull up.  
  
  
“You two,” Niall closes one eye and squints at Louis and Harry. “You two should date.”  
  
  
“He doesn’t believe in dating,” Harry hiccups, trying to cover Niall’s mouth with his hands.  
  
  
Niall pushes him away, opens a cab door and winks. “Harry has a crush on you!” He blurts, slamming the door behind him.  
  
  
“Oh,” Harry says, shoves his hands in his pockets. “Um.”  
  
  
Louis nods his head towards the end of the street, smirking. “Think I’m gonna walk home. My flat’s not that far away.”  
  
  
“Need some company?” Harry offers, eyes hopeful.  
  
  
Louis bites his lip and looks down, shifting his feet. “Sure.”  
  
  
The walk is silent, and Harry pushes himself further into his jacket to protect himself from the cold. Louis’ cheeks are growing pink and he breathes out, white whispy air streaming like ribbons.  
  
  
“So,” Louis says, grinning at Harry. “Is it true?”  
  
  
“Is what true?” Harry asks.  
  
  
“You know,” Louis prods, bumping his elbow to Harry. “That you have a crush on me.”  
  
  
Harry breathes out and rubs his hands together. “Yeah, I suppose.”  
  
  
Louis comes to a halt and grins, reaches out to thumb at Harry’s chin. “You’re not too bad yourself, Styles.”  
  
  
Harry watches as Louis unlocks his flat and disappears. He doesn’t mind the walk home too much although it’s cold, because a warmth he’s never really felt before is spreading through his body like a fire, igniting his bones and reaching his toes and fingertips.  
  
  
\- -  
  
  
January comes in the blink of an eye.  
  
  
Liam has left the bakery in charge of Louis and Harry – he eyes them wearily for a long time before handing over the keys and a list of things to do.  
  
  
“Please don’t forget to lock the back room,” Liam pleads. “Don’t forget to lock the front door, either. Don’t forget to make that batch of chocolate chip muffins – the teacher from down the road is expecting them, she’s lovely. Don’t let anyone rob you, armed or not -”  
  
  
“If they have a weapon, Liam,” Louis interrupts. “I’m letting them take whatever they like.”  
  
  
Harry bats his eyes at Liam. “You expect me to sacrifice my _life_ over _baked goods_? Do you want this face to go to waste?”  
  
  
“Insufferable, really, you two,” Liam mutters, and he pulls his coat on. “Please just don’t cause any trouble, alright? There’s only an hour left but that’s just enough time to start a three-alarm fire and _oh my god_ , maybe I should stay.”  
  
  
“You really shouldn’t,” Louis snips, and saunters to the front counter to help a customer.  
  
  
Harry wraps Liam in a hug. “We’ll be fine,” He promises.  
  
  
And for two boys who really have absolutely no business running a bakery, the rest of the hour seems to fly by and nothing goes wrong. They change the sign to say closed after the last customer and clean up in a peaceful quiet, making sure to lock the money in the back room.  
  
  
“He’s a bit high strung lately, yeah?” Louis finally says, and Harry looks up and blinks. “Liam, I mean. Something going on with Zayn?”  
  
  
Harry sighs, shakes out his curls and swoops them out of his eyes. “I guess they hooked up the night of the bar and Zayn hasn’t said anything since.”  
  
  
“Bummer,” Louis says, pushing his bottom lip out in a pout. “And Liam won’t say anything to him?”  
  
  
“Nervous, I suppose,” Harry washes off a cookie sheet and sticks it on a shelf. “Niall offered to talk to Zayn but Liam wants it to blow over. Something about Zayn feeling like he’s taken advantage of Liam.”  
  
  
Louis lifts himself on to the counter and swings his legs. “What do you think?”  
  
  
“I think they’re both being stupid,” Harry says. “They both should just snog if they want to – it’s been coming for ages really.”  
  
  
“Just snog when you want to – I like that. Proper twats,” Louis shakes his head in grave agreement. “Bunch of idiots.”  
  
  
“Bunch of idiots,” Harry agrees with a grin.  
  
  
The lights have been turned out and they stand outside, Harry fiddling for his keys in his pocket and Louis zippering his jacket. A light snow is falling as Harry fiddles with the lock one more time and goes over Liam’s list in his head, and then nods.  
  
  
“Well, we’re done,” He kicks at the snow on the ground.  
  
  
“And the place is still standing,” Louis widens his eyes in mock disbelief. “How e _ver_ did we manage?”  
  
  
Harry smiles and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Have a nice night,” He says, and wants to walk away, but Louis is staring at him.  
  
  
Louis takes a step forward and Harry’s heart pounds in his chest. Louis’ lips are brushing his own for a millisecond, and then pushing against his harder. Harry kisses back, reaching out to grab at Louis’ waist, and Louis palms Harry’s cheek, hands soft.  
  
  
It’s over before Harry can fully understand what just happened, and with a lick of his lips and a quirky tilt of the head, Louis walks away.  
  
  
  
\- -  
  
  
The cold weather subsides and June arrives.  
  
  
Harry walks with Louis, hand in hand. Yesterday they’d met up for tea, and the day before that he was sitting on Louis’ couch at his flat watching a game of football. The past six months had been peppered with small dates, dirty kisses and shy smiles. Harry reckons it’s going really well, and his stomach swirls at the thought of it progressing.  
  
  
Louis hasn’t labeled them, but Harry thinks they’re well on their way to a lovely little relationship, maybe even a white house with a picket fence, German Shepherd and two kids one day. He thinks of how Louis is always warning him that relationships are awful at such a young age, but he doesn’t care – Louis is his boyfriend.  
  
  
Maybe it’s just the love talking.  
  
  
They enter a larger department store; one with the different home sections. Harry’s fingertips run over different kitchen appliances, eyes bright with want.  
  
  
“I could use this,” He says, holding up a crock pot. “You’ve only tasted my tacos, you know.”  
  
  
“And what’s wrong with tacos, Styles?” Louis scrunches his face up in mock indignation. “I’m quite alright with tacos every time you cook; they’re fantastic.”  
  
  
Harry blushes and runs his hand over the shiny metal of the pot one more time before chasing after Louis, as he bounds towards the bed section. He shoves his hands in his pockets and bites his lips from laughing as Louis kicks off his shoes and climbs up on the highest mattress, made up of a cushy white comforter and plenty of pillows.  
  
  
“You’re going to get in trouble!” Harry hisses through his teeth, lips widening in a grin. Louis wiggles his body underneath the covers at first, before throwing them off and standing up, starting to jump.  
  
  
“Live a little!” Louis shouts back.  
  
  
Harry looks around for a moment before kicking his sneakers up and climbing up on the bed. The two jump for a bit before things get aggressive; Harry is sent flying on to his back with a smack of a pillow to the head.  
  
  
Louis collapses down next to him and perches up on his elbow. Harry smiles up at him and leans up for a kiss, before grabbing a pillow and hitting Louis with it. Within a few moments of breathless fighting, the area is covered in feathers and the two are running from two security guards, carrying their sneakers in their hands.  
  
  
At the other end of the mall Harry bends down, holding his side. “Haven’t had that much fun in a _really_ long time,” He pants.  
  
  
Louis says nothing, only smiles and intertwines their fingers.  
  
  
\- -  
  
  
August is one of the hottest on record.  
  
  
Harry sits next to Louis at the bar, one hand wrapped around a glass of Coke and rum and the other wrapped around Louis’. The bar is dark and the air is musky, but the drinks are cheap and the company is good. Harry orders them another round and pushes Louis’ hand away as he tries to pay.  
  
  
“I don’t want your money,” He jokes, winking. Louis tips the corner of his lips up in a small smile, and Harry looks away, scathed. The bartender places two drinks in front of them and Louis takes a gingerly sip of his, keeping his eyes moving around the bar, anywhere but on Harry.  
  
  
And it’s been like this for a month now, sorry excuses for a smile and the loosening of a grip on Harry’s hand. Whenever Harry asks to go out to eat, Louis shakes him off, says that he’s already eaten. A trip to the mall is usually Harry shopping, Louis shaking his head and claiming he’s got more clothes than he knows what to do with.  
  
  
A tall, skinny man stands next to them at the bar.  
  
  
“Beer for me,” He says, and tilts his head in Louis’ direction. “And whatever he wants next – on me.”  
  
  
“Thank you,” Louis says, eyes dull. “But I don’t think I’d like another drink.”  
  
  
“Nick,” The man says, reaching out to shake Louis’ hand. “And of course you do.”  
  
  
“No,” Louis says firmly. “I wouldn’t.”  
  
  
“What’s the matter?” The man slurs, eyes narrowing. “Are you saying you have a _boyfriend_?” He scoffs at Harry. “Is this kid your _boyfriend_?”  
  
  
“I said no thank you,” Louis says, trying to keep his voice relatively calm. “You were very sweet with the gesture, but I said no thank you. You can leave now.”  
  
  
“I’m just saying,” Nick leans in close to Louis’ face, breath rank with liquor. “You have very poor taste for such a pretty little face.”  
  
  
“He said go away,” Harry says, voice raspy.  
  
  
Nick rolls his eyes and continues to whisper in Louis’ ear. The burning sensation in the pit of Harry’s stomach grows and grows until he can’t take it anymore. He watches his feet carry his body forward, one fist clenching the fabric of the man’s t-shirt, the other colliding with his nose.  
  
  
The man staggers, and at first, Harry thinks it’s the end of their problems. He turns his attention to Louis’ and goes to ask if he’s okay.  
  
  
Everything turns black.  
  
  
Louis’ lets go of Harry’s hand to unlock his flat door, and turns in the doorframe before Harry can get in. The bartender was nice enough to give Harry a makeshift icepack, and Harry presses it to his right cheekbone and stares at Louis curiously.  
  
  
“He was _such_ a wanker,” He laments, shaking his head. “Wouldn’t leave you alone.”  
  
  
“ _You_ were such a wanker,” Louis snaps, and Harry feels as though he’s been hit again. “If you had left it alone eventually he would have gotten bored and left.”  
  
  
“He was _leering_ at you,” Harry shakes his head. “I was only defending you.”  
  
  
“I don’t need defending, Harry!” Louis pushes a hand through his hair and sighs. “It’s probably best if you get home. Keep putting ice on your cheek.”  
  
  
“I’m not five,” Harry snaps, and Louis sees a momentary flash of hurt wash over his face. “I know how to treat a bruise, thank you very much.”  
  
  
Louis leans forward to press a kiss to Harry’s cheek, but he’s already storming away.  
  
  
\- -  
  
  
It is October.  
  
  
Harry’s sat in a booth with his burger untouched. Louis hums, takes a bite into his and looks around the restaurant, turns back to throw Harry a gentle smile.  
  
  
“C’mon,” He says, wipes his mouth with a napkin. “It’s not that awful, Harry. You didn’t expect it to last forever, did you?”  
  
  
Harry says nothing.  
  
  
“I’ve told you before,” Louis says, voice softening. “I’m just not into relationships. I’m 20 years old, I have a good job and good friends. We’re still friends, Harry. We’ll still see each other.”  
  
  
Harry says nothing.  
  
  
“Food’s good, yeah?” He tries, eyes flickering to Harry’s full plate.  
  
  
Without another word, Harry stands up and walks away, ignoring how Louis calls his name, leaving Louis with the bill to pay. He walks home and calls Liam, quits his job at the bakery – says he’s going to focus on another career, one he’s always had a penchant for – music.  
  
  
\- -  
  
  
December comes, yet again.  
  
  
Harry walks off the stage and grins at the people who clap his back as he makes his way through the crowd. His favorite bar let him sing there tonight – Niall played the guitar, of course – and all of his friends and family came to see him. The set went smoothly, he thinks, except for general ramblings and the shakiness of his voice in the first song.  
  
  
He sees the back of his head first, would recognize that hair anywhere. He’s hunched over at the table, sitting alone, and something in him carries Harry towards him.  
  
  
“Hi,” He says, slides into the booth across from him.  
  
  
“Hey,” Louis smiles, pushes a beer forward. “Thought I’d see you around here, superstar.”  
  
  
Harry’s face flushes, and he takes a sip of beer.  
  
  
“You were really good,” Louis sighs, rolls his shoulders. “I’ll be honest – I wasn’t expecting you to be incredible, but you were.”  
  
  
“Thanks,” Harry says, and his eyebrows narrow when Louis waves to a man with brown hair.  
  
  
“So,” Louis says, tapping his fingers against his glass. “I thought I should tell you – I’m seeing someone.”  
  
  
And the earth is shattering beneath his feet, because Louis never wanted Harry. Louis and Harry were just a fling, something that Louis needed to get off his chest – nothing serious, just something that happened. And this boy with his tanned skin and swoopy hair and blue eyes, this boy that didn’t believe in relationships or love or anything of the sort, this boy has fallen.  
  
  
“His name is Greg,” Louis says, and his voice breaks Harry’s thoughts. “I didn’t really expect to find anyone, but,” He chuckles. “I guess I did.”  
  
  
“I guess you did,” Harry says, and he doesn’t sound _too_ bitter.  
  
  
Louis reaches forward and intertwines their fingers, smiles. “I hope someday we can be friends, Harry. I’ve missed you at the bakery.”  
  
  
“I’ve missed you too,” He mumbles. And he stands up, and he walks away from Louis Tomlinson.  
  
  
The air outside is cold, and Harry’s hands are shaking. He runs them through his hair and sighs, tipping his head up to watch as thick flakes fall down from the sky. His jacket is inside with the rest of his friends, but the air feels cool on his face.  
  
  
“Here,” A girl says. She has blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, her thin frame shaking from underneath her peacoat. She hands him a thick grey scarf. “You must be freezing.”  
  
  
“Yeah, ‘s chilly,” Harry agrees. She nods her head and continues to fiddle with her cell phone, back pressed up against the brick wall of the bar. “I’m Harry, by the way.”  
  
  
She flashes him a smile and sticks out her hand. It’s small and delicate, and Harry thinks he’d like the sight of his hand overlapping hers. “I’m Cara.”  
  
  
And just like that, a warmth spreads through Harry’s body, to his fingertips and toes, and he smiles.  
  
  
“Let me introduce you around, Cara,” He says, leading her inside.


End file.
